Ending A Medium Length Day
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: For the HPFC challenge. Dumbledore's feelings and emotions as he dies in HBP in his final moments.


_For the 'I'm about to die' challenge on HPFC_

_I don't own anything! Unfortunately…_

_I hear the angels talking, talking, talking  
Now I'm a dead man walking, walking, walking  
I hear the angels talking, talking, talking  
Now I'm a dead man  
(Dead Man Walking, The Script)_

Death isn't considered to be a good thing. No, people consider death to be the ending of a life, the loss of chances afresh to change things and to enjoy life. However, I don't agree with this classification: evidently, they have forgotten about the chance of life beyond death, the chance to open a portal into a new life and to forget the perils their mortal life brought with them.

Yet I presume that the view I have upon death is slightly skewed in the terms that I have _chosen_ to die: I have hand picked the optimum time to die, had the chance to die a 'designer' death as I believe the phrase could be transferable from Muggles and their children.

I have had the chance to choose when I die, and for that I am grateful: it has allowed me to get my affairs into order and to prepare Harry for the mammoth task that lies ahead of him. I do not see how others who do not have this chance to sort out their affairs manage – perhaps I am simply a 'control freak' but not having the epitome control over my life and when it ends would be horrendous.

I ought to be scared, fearing for my life, as a variety of wands are pointed at me from dangerous Death Eaters. But I am not. You see, I know that it is my time; I have _far_ surpassed the lifespan achieved by my fellow classmates, bar one, and achieved everything that I have been meant to. I founded the strongest resistance against the world's evillest man, if he can be called that, and have _finally_ found the method by which he continues to sustain his survival upon this earth. Horcruxes are the chosen method by Riddle to elongate his life to continue his path of peril and destruction for the rest of the world, but I know that death is a natural part of life. Otherwise, why would it happen? It's a cycle: you are born, you live, and you die.

I am on the last stage on this cycle, perhaps a little prematurely due to my own actions. If I hadn't been as _stupid_ to not look for a curse or other thing upon the ring then I could still be living normally… on the other side of the coin, however, there is the fact that this entire plan would not have been orchestrated and my eventual death would have been unprepared. Harry would have had nothing to go on. So perhaps everything happens for a reason.

The wands are continuing to be pointed at me, but I still do not fear: they can only harm my body, not my soul. And these pitiful 'Death Eaters' dare not to harm me yet – they have their orders, as Severus has his. I can only thank myself that I had the time to paralyse Harry so he did not dare have the chance to be the heroic, although sometimes imbecilic, young man he is.

"Severus," I say the name of my saviour in an attempt to play along with the roleplay we are partaking in, as well as to quash the doubts about this I see in his eyes. He has his reservations about doing this, something which he has voiced to me so many times, but he _must_ do it. If it is only for the dignity of an old man like me, he must. "Please," I continue, and he nods almost imperceptibly.

"Avada Kedavra!" he calls, and the shot of green light escapes the end of his wand, hitting me squarely in the chest.

In the last moments I have on this earth, I feel fear for the first time since I found out about my impending death. Yet it isn't fear for me, as I am launched over the battalions at the top of the Astronomy Tower with the force of the spell, my soul already preparing to leave this vessel of a body and move onto a world unknown. It isn't fear or regret for my life, though I have _much_ of the latter, but rather for Harry and the others I am leaving behind. They have no idea of the intricate detailing I have left in the plan for them, none whatsoever. As far as they are aware, there _is_ no plan.

So I fear for them and the way that they may become lost and misguided souls along the path of discovery and righteousness. I fear that they may take the easy option and not truly defeat Voldemort…

But there is a _little_ part of me that fears for myself. I am leaving the world I know, leaving the knowledge that I am _good_ here, if only for the students of magic. I am moving onto a new place and for all my preparations, in these final stages I am beginning to wonder whether or not I made the right decision.

Yet as I begin to fall down towards the ground gracefully, streamline with my robe and such, I lose all ability to feel. I slip away into the life of the unknown and simply leave the body I have used for too long. I leave the world of bright and sparkling people who have so much potential but do not understand _how_ much I know about them… knew, I suppose it is now, for I am officially dead.

I depart my body to cries and whoops from the alleged murderers and feel, as my last emotion, content that everything worked to plan. Now the others just need to do their part and they will all be fine…

I am on my way to the afterlife, to the place where we go after death. To some, this is a misery, the ending of a life prematurely and without reason or preparation. Of those things, there is nothing that is applicable to me: I have died for a purpose, to help the conquering of Voldemort. I have died with meticulous preparation throughout the past months. I have lived a long and full life and it is finally time to let someone else take the reins of my beloved school.

And a misery? Perhaps for those still alive, my death is an undesired thing and may cause grief. But much like my old friend Nicholas Flamel said, it is simply like going to bed after a very, _very_ long day… but mine has been slightly shorter than his!

_Review please_

_Vicky xx_


End file.
